


Hope in the Darkness

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-His Last Vow, Watching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:38:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2322410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes nearly losing makes you realize what you have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope in the Darkness

It was bound to happen sooner or later. And of course it was late on a rainy London night. John groaned as Sherlock hovered over him, rain dripping from his flattened curls, hands fluttering and panic in his eyes. 

"Put pressure on it and call an ambulance." John was calm; one of them had to be. 

"I'm sorry..." Sherlock started. 

"Shut up," snapped John, biting back a wince as Sherlock used his scarf to try and stop the bleeding. The suspect was unconscious a few feet away, only the fact that John was in need of attention had saved his life. 

Sherlock fumbled with his mobile as he tried to keep pressure like John had taught him. The doctor focused on breathing slowly, watching him and listening as he called the ambulance. "Don't forget our suspect," reminded John. 

Shutting off his phone, Sherlock turned back to his Doctor. Their hands found one another in the dark and John relaxed in his grip. "It'll be okay."

Sherlock gave wry smile. "Shouldn't I be reassuring you?"

"Well, I've had more practice." John adjusted the hand providing pressure before looking back up at Sherlock’s eyes. "I'm a free man now, you know. The divorce was finalized two weeks ago."

"I am aware." The hand in his trembled slightly. John squeezed as the sound of sirens split the night. 

“They’ll probably keep me overnight, but it’s not that bad a wound. I should be back in Baker Street tomorrow.” Sherlock started to pull his hand away at the sound of rushing feet, but John held him in place, holding his eyes. “I don’t think we still need two rooms.”

For once Sherlock was speechless, staring at him. John’s heart thrummed in his own chest, but he knew this was right. He let go as the ambulance reached the alley entrance. Sherlock kept his hand on the wound until the medics arrived, then stepped back. Lestrade was not far behind and he took the detective aside as John was seen to. He closed his eyes in pain as the medics got to work, but forced them open as he was loaded into the ambulance. The last thing he saw before the door closed was Sherlock’s worried eyes and Greg with a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

They gave John something for the pain and for the next while everything was a blur as the doctors worked. When he climbed out of the fog he was in a hospital bed with the sun low in the sky outside. What surprised him the most was Mycroft Holmes standing by his bedside. He’d expected Sherlock.

“I sent Sherlock home to rest. You will be released soon,” said Mycroft, reading his mind in that infuriating way both brothers had. John started to speak, but Mycroft cut him off. “John...I am grateful,” he said carefully, obviously measuring his words. “And I wished to let you know that as you and Sherlock move into a future together, you have my full support.”

John smiled at the git. It was the same as a cheerful celebration from anyone else. “Thank you,” he said instead.

Mycroft inclined his head. “I will have a car ready when they release you. I understand that you will need to be careful for the next several days. Hopefully the criminals of London will take a brief holiday.” He adjusted his umbrella and went out.

**

Within a few hours he was released. True to his word, there was a car waiting to take him to Baker Street. _Home_. He moved slowly, mindful not to aggravate the stitches and bandages. The knocker was crooked as he got out of the car and moved to the familiar door. It felt like the end to a long nightmare. Pushing the door open, he made his way up the stairs, knowing Sherlock would probably hear him coming. The door was open and John stopped in the entryway a moment, taking in the view of their front room. Clearly Sherlock had made some attempt at tidying, which meant that the more precarious piles were stacked a little neater and there weren’t any obvious experiments on the kitchen table.

The man himself came nervously out of the aforementioned kitchen with a mug of tea. John took it and sipped it, managing to not make a face. Sherlock always put too much sugar in it. Smiling, he started for his chair, then changed his mind and sat on the sofa, patting the seat next to him. Sherlock joined him after a moment. “You’re well enough that they released you,” said Sherlock

“Obviously,” teased John softly, lifting his shirt. “Some stitches. I won’t be up for anything vigorous for a few days, but I’ll be fine.” He reached over and put a hand on Sherlock’s knee. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Sherlock looked down at his hand, then back to his face.

“For everything, Sherlock. I lost you for three years, barely had you the last one and I’m keeping you this time.” John raised a hand, barely hesitating as he touched Sherlock’s cheek. The detective leaned into the touch, eyes wide as he watched him, probably calculating everything he saw on John’s face and in his body language. But John had nothing to hide. Not anymore.

Sherlock simply held his eyes, clearly waiting for John to make the next move. Licking his lips, John shifted closer and gently pulled him down for a kiss. At first the detective was stiff, but he quickly relaxed into John’s touch, parting his soft lips.

John slowly licked along the seam, then pulled back. Sherlock’s breath was short and eyes blown, letting John know he wasn’t the only one so affected. “I know we’ve been dancing around this for forever, but let’s take it slow. Especially since I need to heal.”

Nodding, Sherlock licked his lip a moment, then dove back in for another kiss. John moaned as he was pressed against the couch, Sherlock’s hands on his shoulders. _So much for slow_. But he couldn’t be arsed to argue, not as Sherlock shifted over him, the length of his cock pressed against John’s thigh. God, he wanted this, had wanted this. Part of him regretted that it had taken nearly five years to get here, but damn if he wasn’t going to enjoy every moment from here on out.

“Let me bring you pleasure, John,” whispered Sherlock as he finally broke away, panting as he looked him in the eyes. His hands dropped to John’s belt. Nodding, John watched him, glad that this hadn’t been deleted along the way. Or perhaps it had and Sherlock had changed his mind. “Clearly you are not well enough for full intercourse. But if you are still…” Sherlock slipped to his knees and leaned in tug down his trousers and pants to his thighs, admiring the thick cock.

John ran a hand through those amazing curls he’d longed to touch. Sherlock ran his tongue from root to tip, laving John’s cock before sucking the head into his mouth. John groaned and Sherlock pinned his hips with his large hand, keeping him in place. The flat was quiet save the wet sounds of suction. John’s eyes fell closed as he moaned again at the pleasure.

Sherlock hummed around him, making his hips jerk. He felt him choke for a moment, but after pulling back to breathe, Sherlock went back with vigour. John moaned again, feeling his orgasm already approaching. It had been far too long since he’d been with anyone. Sherlock seemed to sense it, brought him right to the edge...then he was tipping over, coming quietly down Sherlock’s throat as he swallowed every drop.

Finally Sherlock pulled off. John panted as he opened his eyes. Sherlock leaned up to kiss him gently before pulling up the shirt to check his wound. “I’m fine,” said John, grinning. “Better than fine. What can I do for you?”

“Will you watch me?” Sherlock leaned back on the sofa and released his own cock.

“If that’s what you want.” John licked his lips as he watch that large hand wrap around his slender rod. “Do you want to take me, when I’m healthy, Sherlock? Do you want me in your bed and underneath you?”

“I’ll take you on every surface on this flat,” growled Sherlock, hand moving faster. 

John’s heart skipped but he smiled. “You’re not taking me on the kitchen table until you’ve bleached it.”

Sherlock scoffed, but his hand was steady. He watched John. “You want me to fuck you,” he growled.

Those words from that beautiful mouth… John surged towards him and kissed him hard. Sherlock kissed him back, pushing his tongue into his mouth. John’s hand wrapped around the base of Sherlock’s cock as they snogged. It was perfect. He pulled back and watched Sherlock come, white staining his dark shirt. Without even really thinking he leaned in to lick it from the material.

“John,” moaned Sherlock, getting a hand in his hair and pulling his head back to kiss him again. He held him in place, John loving the feel of that hand in his hair, until they had to come up for air. They fell apart, leaning against opposite arm of the couch, both of them grinning. “Your tea’s gone cold,” said Sherlock at last.

“Sod the tea,” said John, flipping over and crawling over Sherlock to lean against his chest. Sherlock put an arm around him and breathed in his hair. John’s side hurt, but he was certain he hadn’t torn any stitches, and right now he couldn’t care.

**

The next morning, John woke early, like usual. What was less usual was waking in Sherlock’s large bed. The great detective was sprawled half out of the covers, snoring like a log, one fingertip on John’s shoulder, as if assuring himself that he really was there. John leaned over and kissed his cheek before getting up to use the loo. He checked the wound to make sure it was still doing all right before brushing his teeth. Sherlock wandered in a while he was doing that and looped his arm loosely around his waist, grumbling.

“Morning,” said John, smiling at him in the mirror. 

Sherlock merely grumbled, kissed his shoulder and wandered off in search of tea. If this was how every morning was going to be, that was fine by John.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to beltainefaire and guixonlove. Possibly could be longer, if folks want. You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


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